


lost time

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Charles in a Wheelchair, Gay Mutant Road Trip, M/M, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Sharing a Bed, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-15 16:39:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13035201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: Decades after their initial road trip together, Charles and Erik still have a lot on their minds.





	lost time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theapolis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theapolis/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [theapolis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theapolis/pseuds/theapolis) in the [secret_mutant_madness_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/secret_mutant_madness_2017) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Post XMA Charles and Erik go on a road trip that leaves them stranded in a snowstorm in a hotel room... that only has one bed.

Charles was roused from a dream in which he and Erik were traveling around the country looking for mutants in 1962 by the sound of 1984 Erik’s voice saying to him, “Charles. I’m not comfortable driving any further in this.”

“Mmm?” Charles stirred awake to the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers swishing through big fluffy flakes of wet snow, barely visible in the dark. “Don’t you have plenty of experience driving in the snow in Europe?” he teased Erik gently, voice rough with sleep.

“With other Europeans,” Erik sniffed, “who know how to drive in the snow, much less in the snow at night.”

“And couldn’t you shove their vehicles out of the way if any silly American driver were to barrel toward us?”

“Of course, but I’m tired, Charles, and to be honest with you I’d rather sleep.”

“And that would draw a lot of attention to us. All right, all right,” Charles said, “we’ll stop. Find a motel, I suppose.”

“If I can see a road sign in this,” Erik grumbled. Several miles later, however, a red neon sign high above the interstate advertised available rooms, and Erik took that exit.

As the snow was coming down rather quickly, it seemed other motorists had the same idea, as the parking lot was full. 

“Stay in here,” Erik told him, “and I’ll keep the engine running. Despite what that sign says, they may not have a room.”

Warmed by the heater, Charles waited. A bundled-up Erik soon returned and knocked on the windshield, as the windows were coated with snow. 

“One room,” Erik called. Charles nodded. “With one bed,” Erik added.

“Ah,” Charles said.

Erik parked the car outside the door of the last room, so that Charles wouldn’t have far to go. Despite Charles’ protests, Erik made sure he was ridiculously bundled up before opening the door. As it turned out, the very old fashioned motel did not exactly have the most up-to-date facilities, so rather than get out the chair for Charles, Erik floated it into the room and carried Charles in himself, bridal style, Charles’ arms around him. 

Charles watched him closely; his expression was impassive, but for a slight reddening of his cheeks and ears, which honestly could be due to the cold. Charles did not read Erik’s mind, unsure if he would be welcome. 

As for himself and how he felt about Erik carrying him into a motel room, well. While it would have mortified him in the Sixties and angered him in the Seventies, now he was just amused. Hank had carried him often enough in the past out of necessity, and while Hank had been gentle as could be, there was an altogether different air to the way Erik carefully set him on the bed. Charles found his gaze and kept it; staring into his eyes, Erik swallowed. Charles was about to speak when Erik turned to retrieve their luggage.

With their things in, the room closed up, and the heater on, they began to shed their hats, coats, and scarves. Charles knew he tired more easily these days, and that he was more affected by the cold, so he was content to go right to sleep. Erik, however, hadn’t so much as sat on the bed yet, standing somewhat awkwardly and silent after he’d taken off his outerwear. He seemed expectant. 

“Get in your pajamas, Erik, and come to bed,” Charles told him. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, bit his lip, and nodded. Shoulders sagging a little, he paused before taking off his pullover and shedding his boots and jeans. In his undershorts, socks, and shirt, he rummaged through his bag for his pajamas. Charles made no bones about watching. Erik was as good-looking now as he’d been during their first road trip. Charles had watched him then, too. 

Decades later, Charles still didn’t know how they’d kept their hands off each other, or for that matter, why. Whatever reasons they’d had at the time, left unexamined, now seemed so silly. What a waste. He’d known Erik had wanted it, wanted him. He’d wanted Erik so much he’d regularly wanked off in the shower on their entire trip. 

They’d been so young then, too; they’d have been unstoppable. Perhaps that was the problem: they knew, somehow, that if they started something, the floodgates would be open and they’d never be able to stop. Foolish, in retrospect, considering that whatever was between them had never stopped anyway. They might as well have spent every available opportunity in bed with each other. Nothing Erik had done had made Charles stop loving him, and if they’d slept together, it might have made it hurt more whenever Erik broke his heart; on the other hand, he’d have real memories of his kisses, the sounds he’d make, the feel of his bare skin rather than imaginings. 

Erik put on his pajamas under Charles’ gaze, silent. When he sat on the bed, Charles transferred himself to his chair, which Erik had set near the side of it; after going through his things, he rolled to the ensuite, dingy and poorly lit as it was, and went through his nightly routine as best he could. He knew if he needed Erik’s help, he’d get it immediately, but he didn’t, and in due time he rolled back to the bed. Erik was under the covers, his back to Charles as he got in, but Charles could sense his watchfulness in case his help was needed. 

With a sigh, Charles pulled the covers up over them both. Large in his mind was the fact that he and Erik had never shared a bed, aside from that time in the club where they’d found Angel, and that was hardly the same thing.

He was so tired that he fell asleep almost as soon as Erik had turned off the light, keeping to himself on the other side of the bed.

He woke up some time later, and realized that at some point Erik had, in his sleep or otherwise, rolled over and pressed his face into Charles’ neck, and put an arm over him. He was deeply asleep, breathing slow and even; he was very warm, and radiating peace and contentment. Charles swallowed. A man so tormented, finding some sort of respite in Charles’ arms. And it _was_ because Charles was with him—Charles knew that with certainty.

Charles would have loved to stay like this with him forever, but it was imperative that he move so that he wouldn’t be too long in the same position.

“Darling,” he whispered against Erik’s temple. “Erik, wake up.”

“Mmmph,” came Erik’s reply. It was almost comical, the process of Erik remembering he was in bed with Charles, realizing Charles was telling him to wake up, and his realization that he was pressed so closely against him. He leapt back and nearly fell off the other side of the bed.

“Erik,” Charles said patiently. “I just need to move about a bit before I go back to sleep. Paralysis and all.”

Erik’s expression froze in horrified guilt for a moment. There was a constant festering awareness on Erik’s part of what had happened on that beach in Cuba; Charles would have bet money that he ran Charles’ own words— “She didn’t do this, Erik. You did”—on a constant loop in the back of his mind. Charles said nothing, only went through his stretches before settling in again.

For his part, Erik gingerly got back into his previous position, careful not to touch Charles or even to move the bed.

“It’s all right, you know,” Charles told him. “It’s fine. You’re very warm. It’s good for me to avoid getting too cold.”

Erik huffed out a breath, and inched closer. God, to see this decisive, blunt, powerful man acting like an awkward schoolboy. Charles couldn’t help a smile.

Erik did not quite settle in to where he’d been when Charles had woken up, but once more, after they’d both fallen asleep he found his way to pressing his face into Charles’ neck, with an arm over him, as Charles discovered several more hours later, when a gray dawn was starting to make itself known. The air above the blankets was cold and musty; underneath, it was warm and smelled like Erik more than it did stale old sheets. Really, come to think of it, Charles was more content than he’d been in ages with Erik close to him like this. He put an arm over him, and stole a kiss to his temple.

Erik stirred at that, and raised his head to blink at Charles with serious green eyes. “How can you,” he started, voice raspy, and Charles thought he was being rebuked for the kiss.

“I— How can I what?”

“How can you… love me,” Erik said, and Charles felt like he’d been punched in the gut, “after all this, after everything I’ve done.” There was a thickness to his voice. 

“I don’t know,” Charles answered, honest. “But I do. I’ve loved you since the moment I felt your mind in the ocean. I’ve never stopped. I’ve hated it sometimes, hated you, hated myself, but I’ve never stopped.” It was true. He’d loved others, of course, had gone years without thinking much at all about Erik, at least on an everyday basis, but from the moment he’d wrapped his arms around Erik and pulled him up to the surface of the water part of him had been irrevocably lost. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Erik said.

“I’m not a reward for you to be deserving of,” Charles told him. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“ _Why_ do you love me?” Erik persisted.

“I don’t know that either,” Charles said. “I just do. Don’t dwell on the hows and whys, Erik. I love you, that’s all.”

“I never asked you to,” Erik informed him.

“I know that, you ass,” Charles replied without heat. “I didn’t ask for it either.”

Erik was silent, looking at him. “Do you ever think, Charles,” he finally said, voice a low rasp, “of what we might have been to each other?”

Charles let out a long, slow breath. What they might have been to each other. If he’d gotten through to Erik in time that day on the beach. If he’d gone with Erik that day. If Moira hadn’t fired her pistol. If Erik had stayed with him. If. If. If. “I think about it all the time,” he said finally. “The rift between us is the background of my life, my friend. But wondering what could have happened differently is a fool’s errand, Erik. What happened happened. We can’t change that.”

“We tried,” Erik pointed out. “We sent someone back, you and I.”

“Yes, we sent Logan back and you tried to kill him,” Charles pointed out. “It’s not so easy as just going back in time, is it? Besides, this is who I am now. Oh yes, I’ve thought about what it would have been like if I’d had you for my own from the start. You spending every night in my bed. We wouldn’t be able to get enough of each other. I wanted you so badly then. What a waste,” he remarked, with a dry little laugh.

“Do you not want me now?” Erik asked, and Charles barked out a laugh of disbelief. 

“I’ve never stopped loving you, I’ve never stopped wanting you. Though I suspect it’s driven me a bit mad, I’ve never stopped.”

Erik bridged himself up over Charles and kissed him, his stubble scraping Charles’ mouth. Immediately Charles’ hand went to cup his jaw, parting his lips for him, kissing him back with no hesitation, withholding nothing. Erik groaned low in his throat. 

They devoured each other. Erik was breathless when he withdrew, blinking down at Charles, looking poleaxed. Charles smiled, feeling tears rise suddenly to his eyes. He blinked them away, with another little laugh, wry. “We were so foolish,” he whispered, stroking his thumb along Erik’s cheekbone.

“Unless I’m very wrong, we’re both still here, Charles,” Erik said. “Together. In the same bed.”

Charles swallowed. “We can’t make up for lost time, Erik.”

“Can’t we at least make an effort?” Erik sat up and pulled off his shirt, and Charles’ heart started to hammer in his chest.

“I’m not going to be able to— Things are different for me now, Erik,” he warned, although surely Erik knew things would no longer go the way they typically would have. Charles had done all right for himself in the intervening years, all things considered, but someone new to the experience might not fully understand, might have expectations Charles could not meet.

“I’ll adapt. We’ll adapt.” Erik grinned. “We’re mutants.”

“That we are.” Charles sat up, and unbuttoned his own pajama shirt, peeling it off. Where Erik’s set were a dark plaid flannel, his own were satin. Erik cocked a brow at him, and Charles leveled a gaze at him in return. “I’ll thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself on my satin pajamas, Mr. Purple and Red Helmet and Cape,” he said, moving himself to sit back against the headboard. 

“Only because I’ll be too busy doing other things,” Erik said, leaning in, and kissing him. Charles put a hand to the back of Erik’s neck, humming in reply as Erik murmured low in his throat at the touch. Erik’s hand went to his side, lightly touching with just his fingertips, steadying himself, and Charles gasped into the kiss.

“Mmm?” Erik withdrew, looking a little bit dazed. 

“Nothing, it’s just….” Charles took a deep breath. “My nerves have relocated, if you will. My upper body is more sensitive. Than it was. Before.”

“Ah.” Erik looked keenly interested. “Is that right?” He leaned in again, just barely touching his lips to Charles’, breathing his air, drawing in Charles’ gasp as his fingertips wandered up Charles’ chest to brush over his nipples. Charles blinked rapidly, and swallowed, feeling his face heat. “I wondered if you’d do that,” Erik said, a soft, low rasp.

“Do what?” Charles managed, passing the tip of his tongue over suddenly dry lips. 

“Blush like that,” Erik said, looking over his face, his neck, his chest. “All over.”

“Oh.” Charles released a stuttering breath. “Kiss me again,” he said, and Erik did, immediately. How often had he dreamed of having Erik at his beck and call, or of simply making out with him for hours, even? 

As Erik kissed him, his hand wandered: fingertips circling his nipple, palms stroking up and down his chest in a slow rhythm, gliding up to his neck and smoothing to cup his shoulder. Erik purred low in his throat, and at the light scraping of the blunt edge of his nails Charles had to pull back a bit, blinking at him, breathless. Erik stared back at him, sea-green eyes and long lashes. “Let me in,” Erik whispered. “I want to feel what it’s like.”

Charles nodded, heart thudding, and took a breath as he lowered his mental shields, letting his feelings flow toward Erik, watching his lips part and his eyes lose focus for a moment as it hit him. 

“I’ve missed that,” he murmured, and leaned in to kiss him again.

Charles’ heart ached, and his hand cupped Erik’s jaw again. Every moment his mind had touched Erik’s had been inexpressibly special to him; no one else’s mind felt quite like his. He had missed it, most terribly; if only he’d known, back in the days when Erik would let him connect freely, that their time like that was limited, that—

“Charles,” Erik murmured against his lips, amused. “Focus.” He pinched one of Charles’ nipples, hard.

“Erik!”

“How do I make you come?” Erik wondered. “I want that. I’ve always wanted that. I wanted to make you burst into a thousand pieces.” He rubbed the heel of his hand over Charles’ nipple.

“You’ll be glad to know,” Charles got out between pants, “that it’s both more complicated and much easier than it used to be. Keep doing that. Kiss me.”

 _Erik Erik Erik_ he hammered into Erik’s mind, caught up in the pleasure of it, so long delayed. He could feel Erik’s arousal as well, melding with and feeding off his own. Suddenly, after an especially firm rub from Erik, the pleasure peaked and burst, and he moaned into Erik’s mouth. Drawing back, his head thunked against the headboard. Blinking at Erik, he swallowed.

“Come here,” he said, breathless, beckoning Erik closer with a gesture, reaching for his crotch. “Let me see you.” No sooner had Erik moved that much closer to him than he was groping for his flies, impatiently helping Erik shove and pull them down, his cock spring free. “Jesus,” Charles said. Erik was as big as he’d always thought, hard and mouthwatering. “God, I’d like to suck you off,” he breathed, half to himself, and Erik groaned. “I thought about that so often. Getting on my knees, you with your hand in my hair.” He laughed, wrapping his hand around Erik’s cock. “I’d stop you arguing with me, make you completely incoherent just with my mouth.”

“Charles,” Erik gasped.

“Later, perhaps,” Charles said, giving Erik a long, slow, tight stroke. “I always wanted to feel you in my mind when you came, too.” He stroked the pad of his thumb over the tip of Erik’s cock; Erik curled his fingers in the sheets. Charles began to stroke him again, slowly at first, gradually going faster, looking into Erik’s eyes until that was too intense for them, and Erik kissed him again, panting. 

Charles wanted to say something to him telepathically then, but _Darling_ was all he was able to say to him—everything else was beyond words. 

Shuddering, Erik came. “Charles—”

Charles let himself sink back against the headboard. “Perhaps it’s just as well we didn’t have decades of that, after all. I’m not sure if we’d have survived,” he joked, soft, as he pulled back from Erik’s mind. 

“We can have all we want of it now,” Erik said, slumping back against the headboard next to him. “If you want.”

“And you’ll break my heart again?” Charles asked, turning to him, with what he knew was a sad smile.

“I never tried to do that, Charles.”

“I know, darling. Well, perhaps that’s a discussion to be had later. Tonight, let’s sleep. It’s been a long day.” He reached for his pajama top, and Erik reached for his clothes; they’d have done without, but it was cold in the room. 

Under the covers once again, this time Erik straight away settled in next to him, face pressed against his neck. Charles put an arm over him, and his sigh—relief, amusement, and aching sadness—ruffled Erik’s soft hair.


End file.
